


Nietzsche

by callmechristinae



Series: Livejournal Migration [10]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-17
Updated: 2006-02-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:38:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmechristinae/pseuds/callmechristinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny always wanted a family, but families are messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nietzsche

There was this guy who said one time “family love is messy, clinging, and of an annoying and repetitive pattern, like bad wallpaper.” You see, I know that guy was Nietzsche thanks to that little paper on the wall that says I graduated, but that’s beside the point. While I don’t agree with a lot of what that guy said, I mean, I pretty sure his ideas had something to do with the Nazis, but I can’t remember what…okay, I’m going off again. Well, I don’t agree with a lot of what he said, but that really makes a lot of sense.  
  
Now, I’m not saying that families suck all the time. I mean, I see happy families all the time. It’s just, I haven’t had much experience with that whole “Leave It To Beaver” and “Boy Meets World” families where everyone cares about each other that much and is always genuinely altruistic (that word is also courtesy of my college degree). I know my family was never like that. Imagine growing up in the bad part of town with a name like Benjamin Coffin III. Yeah…a lot of being teased, getting beat up, oh, and my favorite, running.  
  
Did my family care? Of course not. My father was always off somewhere with his dreams of opening up that damn studio while my mother was drinking herself into a stupor in the bathroom. Whenever we were together, they acted like nothing was wrong and were the perfect caring parents. It just felt so unnatural though, and the cycle repeated itself over and over and over again. I spent my free time locked in my room studying, desperately wanting to get out of that place as soon as possible. And I did.  
  
My mother didn’t even last long enough to see me graduate, dying on the horrible fake tile in the bathroom with a bottle of vodka clutched in her hand. My father was too busy to see me receive a bunch of awards and accolades. You know, I was one of those “the boy in the hood does good” stories. I got into a great school when most people from my high school didn’t even graduate.   
  
Ah, good old Brown University, “And their B-R-O-double U-N!” I remember move in day, with all those stuck up rich kids upset that they were being “exiled” to Rhode Island. I’d take friggin’ Timbuktu as long as it took me away from that hellhole of a home I came from. The dorms were nicer than anywhere I had ever lived.  
  
I had just settled down into my room and was starting to read my worn out used textbook when my door flung open. This skinny little pale kid stumbled in, his arms full of books and camera equipment. All of this was dumped quickly on his bed and he dashed out again, not even acknowledging me. He came back in about ten minutes later, this time carrying suitcases and accompanied by an older woman. She wrapped and striped scarf around his neck and began going on about motherly things (at least, I think, I wouldn’t know after all) while he sneakily led her out through the door.  
  
“Hi! I’m Mark and that was hopefully a woman you’ll never have to meet,” he said, jumping onto my bed and sticking his hand out. He had this ridiculous grin on his face, which I usually found annoying. But, on him it was okay. Not that way, I mean, it’s just nice to have someone genuinely smile because they’re happy to meet you, not because they’re making fun of you.  
  
We had a great few years at Brown, me studying business and him studying film. Then, all of the sudden, everything just changed.  
  
It’s all kind of a blur for me, but I remember studying for some economics test at my desk when the door flung open. I didn’t look up, because whenever the door swung open that hard, I knew it was Mark. Usually he’d hop on my bed and tell me some goofy story about his day, but this time he was silent. I looked up when I didn’t hear him cross the room and saw him crying.  
  
While that in itself was a shock to me, I was even more surprised by the feelings coursing through my body. I was worried for my friend, fiercely angry at whoever caused this, and this overwhelming sense of love. That was when I realized that Mark had become my first real family. We were brothers, and brothers take care of each other, right?  
  
Next thing I know, he’s packing all his stuff up before collapsing on the ground with these great heaving sobs. I vaguely remember rushing over to him and holding him, asking him what was wrong. He hasn’t told me to this day and, judging by the current state of our friendship, I doubt I’ll ever know. He just kept sobbing about how he had to get away, rubbing at these strange bruises on his arms. Next thing I knew, we were on our way to New York City. I mean, we were brothers, and brothers stick together.  
  
We ended up renting from this philosophy professor, good old Collins. Everything was great for a while. We were our own family, doing everything to each other and seemingly defying what that stodgy old Nietzsche thought. We’d get work wherever we could, earning just enough to stay alive with a few, okay, just about no luxuries. It was even nice when we had Maureen there. She was a little calmer then and gave the whole place a nice feminine touch. She made it seem more like a family with her soft smiles and random advice. We were doing just fine.  
  
They all seem to think I “sold out,” marrying Alison and trying to open up my Cyberarts studio. But, our family began to fall apart before then. It wasn’t “clinging” by any means, I could have taken that easily. I even enjoyed the way Mark felt the need to mother over everyone, making sure we all ate and took whatever medicine we needed. But, everything certainly got “messy” when Roger moved in.  
  
If it had just been Roger, I think I could have taken it. But no, he had to bring in his lifestyle. He’d stagger in drunk at night, bringing some groupie along with him and winking at Mark and me while we sat on the couch playing Monopoly. He was loud and had no consideration for the rest of us, and those fucking drugs. I’d find little empty plastic bags all over the place, flecks of white powder still inside. But poor little Mark adored the guy. He welcomed him into our family without any second thought. Mark’s like that though. He always wants to take care of and help out everyone.  
  
I’d complain every time Roger staggered in with April, seemingly finally finding a girl he liked. They were always so loud, and our thin walls didn’t help at all. Mark would just shrug it off before rolling the dice. I mean, Roger’s allowed to do…THAT in his room whenever he wants, but he makes Maureen move out because he can’t stand having a woman there. I hoped that that would be what would make Mark finally see the light, but the guy just goes along with it.  
  
That’s when my little family began to fall apart. I started seeing Alison, thinking she was a nice enough girl. Okay, she wasn’t at all. I never would have kept dating her if it didn’t piss Roger off so much. Alison loved showing me off to her family though, somehow thinking she was rebelling by not dating some upper class white boy from a prestigious family, but still able to impress her friends and family with my rags to someday riches story.  
  
When we got married, there were so many people there. We filled up the entire church, but my only guest had been Mark. He had stood by me as my best man, and I had hoped that I would see that enormous grin on his face again. I saw this weird kind of sadness though, like he knew this was the end.  
  
In my leaving, it seems like Mark and Roger have only gotten closer. The rocker seems much more subdued, and I think if he had been like this back then, everything would have worked out. I’ll never forgive him for destroying my family though. My only family. My feelings for them never changed, no matter what they think. Why else would I give them the opportunity to live rent free forever? It certainly wasn’t for Roger. Mark would just look between us sadly, always going along with whatever that darn songwriter said.  
  
“Family love is messy, clinging, and of an annoying and repetitive pattern, like bad wallpaper.” My life is a mess, and the only people I ever cared about think I’m a sellout. I hate being like this, but that’s the only way I’ll survive with my new supposed “family.” But, the real pattern of the family of Benjamin Coffin III goes like this: he starts out alone and ends up alone. I just wish everything could go back to the way it was before. But no, I have to go and be this stuck up ass, constantly telling them that they’ll see. What the hell are they going to see?  
  
So, here we are. I’m tearing posters of Maureen off the wall while the two of them tell me about her new “love.” I bet Roger doesn’t even think he had anything to do with it. I couldn’t help but throw in the jab about his withdrawal earlier. I would have said something about April if I didn’t know how much that would upset Mark.   
  
“What happened to Benny? What happened to his heart? And the ideals he once pursued?”  
  
I don’t plan the words that come out of my mouth. All I’m thinking is about is how much I hate Nietzsche for being right.


End file.
